


The Stray

by littlebrownshoe (Wolfy_Tales)



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternative Universe – what is this ring/dragon/gold-sickness you speak of?, Dumb happy ending, Gandalf is still the sassiest, M/M, headbutt fluff, nearly all fluff really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-20
Updated: 2015-01-20
Packaged: 2018-03-08 09:03:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3203558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfy_Tales/pseuds/littlebrownshoe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One day Bilbo came across a cat with a thick black coat and white whiskers. Initially the animal lashed out at Bilbo, but once he had seen his mistake, the stray came and licked at the cuts in apology.</p><p>Bilbo took the cat home that night and named him Oak, after the tree the hobbit had found him under.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Stray

**Author's Note:**

> Oh my god... what have I written. It was just an escape for some hours from all this planning I'm doing for life, and bofa in general. Still, I'm NOT sorry at ALL.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own The Hobbit.

 

_A Bagginshield AUish one-shot where Thorin gets turned in to a cat, Bilbo is kind, and Gandalf has fun._

.

Bilbo told himself he was not lonely in Bag End. He had his familiar chair he had inherited from his father to sit in. He had his mother's china to brew his morning cuppa in, and his pantry was always full. Nearly bursting really, as even with his healthy appetite Bilbo had the bad habit of buying for more than just himself.

Sometimes family and friends would visit, and he especially enjoyed it when those Took cousins came to try and steal his prized tomatoes. But just like any respectable hobbit, a stone in his hand was a danger not to be sniffed at. Bilbo laughed at his other, older cousins as they danced and flirted. When Spring bursted with weddings under the party tree, and promising couples tucked flowers behind curved ears.

Bilbo watched and sometimes joined in, but he never kept or pressed the flowers others offered him. Everyone understood (although many tried to push, as Bilbo was quite nice to look upon); it had not been that long ago that his father had passed, with his mother following. While Belladonna had been anything but an exemplary hobbit (despite her relations with that wild wizard), and the couple had been prized for their beauty, wealth and blessing of such a soft-spoken, little child. Sure, Bilbo ran off and muddied his trousers in places besides comfy garden beds, but he was always back for dinner and supper.

So even if Bag End was empty but all for one hobbit, that did not mean at all it was empty for Bilbo. There were memories filling every space: where his mother danced in the sunlight while making her coveted pumpkin muffins, where his father would sit and read under the tree atop the hill and smoke, or the fireplace rug where Bilbo spent much of his childhood nights dreaming and playing with wooden toys.

Still, when Bilbo heard an agitated knock on his door that was much too loud and hard to be from any hobbit (even Lobelia with her massive claws), he scampered to the door and opened it to stare at a crouching Gandalf. What a friend to have come visit!

"Well, this is a good morning indeed," Bilbo said in greeting before waving the wizard inside for some tea.

.

"What brings you about? It's not Spring yet, so there will be no celebrations for your lovely fireworks. Why, it's nearly Winter as it is. I can't imagine what you're here for, unless you intend to stay," Bilbo babbled.

"Oh no, just passing through. I was actually here to help along a dwarf to the Blue Mountains, as it is," Gandalf hummed.

"Oh?" Bilbo asked, pausing in getting a plate of scones ready for their tea time. Except Gandalf had requested wine, even though it was barely past Elevenses. Bilbo had learned long ago to not question the oddness of wizards and their choice of beverage.

"Quite right. A favor for my good friend King Thrain. His son came out to explore the area for a possible township or some-sort, and I thought to escort him over a convoy of guards."

"Odd for the dwarves to look west when they're usually so intent on east," Bilbo said with a grin, thinking of all the maps he had poured over. While dwarves were not his favorite race to learn the histories of, they did make fine maps of their progress and expansion.

"Yes, they're looking for new mineral deposits and when I explained the good earth here, the prince jumped. It must get awfully stuffy down in that mountain," Gandalf said, then added in a mutter: "It would certainly explain the sour attitude of the dwarf."

"Let's just hope some dragon doesn't see fit to come air it out with his fire," Bilbo commented with a roll of his eyes.

"Indeed," Gandalf said with a chuckle before bringing out his pipe.

They continued talking pleasantly, and Bilbo took out his own pipe to join Gandalf. They decided to move outside for a bit as the kitchen got so stuffy with two pipes going, and sat on the front bench. Both were a tad uncomfortable, what with Bilbo being squished and Gandalf having to bend his longs legs at a near ridiculous angle. When Bilbo pulled at his collar, a tad hot from the sun, he realized in a start it was already lunch time. So in again the two went, and Gandalf sipped a second glass of wine as Bilbo prepared sandwiches.

"So this prince, where is he now? Alright to leave your charge alone?" Bilbo asked absently. He did not care much for where the dwarf was, especially with Gandalf's comment about his aloofness, but it was always polite to ask about one's traveling companions.

"I should hope that he hasn't raised the town market for one," Gandalf said with a sigh, "Both with his appetite and attitude."

"You must invite him for lunch then," Bilbo said with an accommodating smile. "There's plenty in the pantry still. And I have never met a dwarf, much less a royal one at that. Oh, and the Tooks think  _they_  get all the adventures."

"Why, I think that sounds like a wonderful plan. It would do Thorin good to see what you lovely folks are like. If you would excuse me then, I will be back shortly."

Bilbo gave a bright smile in return and went about making some additional dishes. He fried up some potatoes and bell-peppers, along with some spicy sausages and caramelized onions, and brought out all his different mustards. The house was smelling wonderfully when the door opened again, and Bilbo rushed to wash his hands off before going to meet his guests. Except there was only Gandalf, although the prominent frown on his face had a presence all its own.

"Blast dwarves and their stubbornness," the wizard snapped as he walked past Bilbo to get to his wine. "I thought it would be good for Thorin to meet those outside his race, but he is as wary of hobbits as of elves.  _Hah_! Like there is anything in comparison between you simple folk and those eternal creatures."

Bilbo frowned, and thought that description of his race almost sounded like an insult. Gandalf seemed to sense his distress when the taller turned to the hobbit and sighed. The wizard reached a hand over and patted Bilbo's shoulder gently, grip tight but not suffocating.

"I mean simple in the nicest way. It is Thorin who is simple minded, and I do not mean  _that_  as a compliment," he rumbled.

That brought Bilbo squaring his shoulders back in pride, and he straightened his waistcoat with a firm pull. He almost felt bad for the dwarf: never getting to see his shiniest brass buttons or eat his delicious food.

"Well, more for us is what I say," Bilbo cheered before turning to move the food to the table.

.

Bilbo offered Gandalf a place to stay for the night, but the wizard was adamant that he had business to attend to. Bilbo could tell by the steal gleam in his eye it had something to do with that stubborn dwarf, and Bilbo almost felt bad for the prince. Except the dwarf did spur a warm welcome to lunch for no reason at all besides the hobbit's presence, so the hobbit did not feel too much at a loss.

After waving his old friend away, Bilbo went to the market to help replenish some of his pantry. Gandalf had such a taste for brae he had nearly eaten an entire wheel, and he was low on apples. Bilbo wanted to bake pies today for tea time with the wizard tomorrow, and thought apple would match the cold bite of the weather. Plus fish, as soon he would not be able to get it.

Some hours later, as Bilbo had gotten caught in a few conversations (mostly about Gandalf and indeed, a dwarf that had been quite rude to everyone at the market this morning), the hobbit made his way back home. His basket was weighed down with good food, but it was not an uncomfortable weight. And it was such a nice day, just cold enough to wear a jacket without getting hot.

Deciding it would be a good luxury to have a walk around, Bilbo took the long way home that went along a creek and forest for a mile or so. He was just thinking how nice the sky looked with the beginning pinkish tint to the clouds when Bilbo heard a vicious hissing.

Grasping his basket close to his chest, Bilbo turned his gaze from the sky back down to the path. Immediately he sighed in relief, as it was only a black cat in his path. It was fairly large for a cat (especially with its fur standing on end in intimidation) but nothing that Bilbo had reason to be afraid of. Yet he had never seen the cat before, and from the few nicks in its ears, Bilbo supposed that it was a stray. He also did not have to look between its legs to know it was a mean tomcat.

"Hello there!" he called from his few feet away. "I'm sorry to intrude, but I really must pass through. I hope that you do not give me any trouble."

(It was funny in a way, as it was this instance where the phrase crossing a black cat was made. As for the reason why Bilbo made the phrase, well, the hobbit was about to find out.)

Bilbo began to edge around the cat, and all the while hard blue eyes watched him. His whiskers twitched, and the hobbit noted with glee that they were white. It was odd, as his fur was a pure, tufted black. He did not stop glaring at Bilbo even after the hobbit had passed, and Bilbo turned back around to continue down the road. He could feel steely eyes on him for some moments more afterwards.

Bilbo could not help but turn around and peer at the cat. He had retreated back to an oak by the road, his black presence stark against the weathered wood. He still had his hard gaze on Bilbo, and the animal puffed up again at seeing eyes focused back on him.

Then the cat turned away, his tail flicking, and curled up into a ball at the base of the tree. Bilbo stared, and felt a tug at his chest at the thought of how this cat obviously had no home. His fur was wild and eyes untrusting.

Well, it was a good thing Bilbo had decided on fish tonight.

Mind made up, Bilbo straightened his jacket with his free hand in a nervous tick and then marched back the road with more confidence than he felt. The cat only registered his presence when he was a few feet from him, and he immediately jumped to his feet and spat like Bilbo was an orc on the attack. A black back was arched, and his eyes looked more gray than blue from the clear anger in them.

"Hello there, beautiful. It's me again," Bilbo said with a crooked smile.

If possible, the cat puffed up even more.

"Alright, I suppose  _handsome_  then, if you're so inclined. Not that you need to worry about your masculinity."

The cat had finally stopped hissing, but he still was pressed against the tree defensively. Bilbo squatted down to be more at his level, and a low cry of warning reverberated from the creature.

"My name is Bilbo Baggins, and I'm at your service. I would like to take you home with me really. Give you some food, let you curl up by the fire. The nights are getting cold out here, and it wouldn't do you well if you could avoid it."

Bilbo did not expect the cat to understand the reason in his words, but he had hoped his easy and warm tone would calm it down. If anything, it made the cat even angrier. Bilbo was sensing a theme with this little life.

Thinking that if his voice was not helping, maybe a gentle touch would convey how all Bilbo wanted to do was help. Yet no sooner had he lifted his hand to reach forward had the cat swiped at his offering in a blur of black fur and sharp claws.

The hobbit cried out at the sharp jolt of pain. The shock of it caused him to fall off his heels and soundly onto his backside. Bilbo was wearing his cream colored trousers, and was sure he would have to scrub the dirt from them thoroughly. But more importantly, he was leaking red blood all over the ground. He rushed to get his handkerchief, and realized in dread that he had forgotten it at home.

Feeling utterly stupid and hopeless, Bilbo used his good hand to cover his eyes and began to cry. It was not a dramatic cry, but a slight whimper that had a few hot tears trailing down flushed cheeks.

For while Bilbo was indeed strong in mind, sometimes these things really got to you. He had stained his favorite trousers with mud. The apples from his basket had scattered and many had rolled down the hill to float away down the creek. His hand stung and was bleeding viciously, and it was his dominant hand at that. Bilbo bitterly thought that this was what he had deserved for trying to help something that clearly did not want to be helped. But Bilbo just knew how the nights were approaching Winter, and he would never wish anything to feel the true cold of that season.

Oh, how unlucky crossing the path of this black cat had been!

Bilbo yelped a second time when he felt something rough and wet wipe over one of his cuts. He removed his hand from his face and turned to see that the cat had not bolted like he thought, but was sitting patiently in front of him licking demurely at the wounds. Bilbo retracted his hand, and regretted tightening it in to a fist a moment later at the stab of hurt.

But he was soon distracted by the cat that did not look murderous anymore. If anything, the creature looked guilty with his head partially bowed and his fur finally unruffled. Curved, white whiskers twitched again as he looked back up at Bilbo.

Feeling suddenly very silly, as he was a respectable hobbit from two great (in their own ways) families, Bilbo took a final sniff and put his head back on his shoulders. He reached for his upturned basket and took out the cloth he used to line it. Bilbo saw the cat creep up towards the fish and sniff before backtracking away. With the checkered cloth firmly tied around his hand (and Bilbo saw the cuts were not truly  _that_  bad) the hobbit went about collecting what food he could and standing up.

He looked back down at the cat, whose tail flicked uneasily behind it. Now it seemed his wariness had crept back in as he looked up at Bilbo's taller figure.

"You're welcome to follow me home, if you'd like," Bilbo said down to him gently with a wave of his hand before beginning his walk once again.

He walked for a good minute and stopped where he had turned around from before. When he searched, he saw that the cat was no longer under the oak tree. In fact, it was no where in sight. Bilbo could not hold back the sigh of disappointment, but it was quickly replaced by a gasp of shock as he felt something swat at his feet.

Bilbo looked down to see two eyes staring back up at him, the pupils slits in the bright, dying light of the day.

"Oh," Bilbo exhaled smartly.

The cat swatted at his furry feet again, and Bilbo jumped to start walking home again.

.

Bilbo stared at the cat as he sniffed the chicken uneasily. Giving a side glance to Bilbo, finally the cat leaned forward and took a bite. Unlike the fish (which the animal had oddly not even given a chance to) the cat began eating the meat with energy.

The hobbit sighed in relief, and wondered who he should talk to about how to feed a cat. Mostly they sustained themselves as mousers, but Bilbo kept his house so clean that was not a sustainable option. He would have to ask around, if the cat decided to stay.

Knowing the cat was happy with his own meal, Bilbo set about making something for himself. Seeing as he did not want to do much with his injured hand, he decided on some cold cuts and cheese. He also cut up the apples that seemed more bruised than the others, so he could eat them now before they deteriorated further. When Bilbo sat down, he noted that the cat had already finished his own meal. His tail swayed behind him in contentment, intelligent eyes nearly glowing in the candlelight. Bilbo had never seen such eyes on a cat before.

"Now you want to eat my dinner as well? You would probably eat out my pantry if you could!" Bilbo said with a chuckle. "Still, I suppose some roast-beef wouldn't be the worst thing to give you."

So with that, Bilbo stood up and grabbed the bowl he had used for the cat. The hobbit moved back to his plate, and started a little when he saw the cat effortlessly jump up on the table and edge closer to his meal. Bilbo quickly placed the bowl on the other side of the table, and the cat leaned down again to eat more.

The hobbit sat back down, and gazed along the wooden table to watch the cat continue to eat. It was more than a little ridiculous and a slight against manners of any sort: letting the cat not only eat at the table with him, but eat  _on_  the table with him. Not to mention the cat had stolen his dinner in a way.

Bilbo tucked in to his own meal finally, and found he had to swat away the cat a few times from him inching closer. Finally the cat got the hint and, sending Bilbo one last glare, he flicked his tail up and trotted out the kitchen. For a moment Bilbo wondered if he would leave, and set about to finishing off his dinner absently. It was odd, to think that nearly all of his meals today had been enjoyed with the company of another. Bilbo laughed to himself, thinking there was probably no bigger difference in guests than a powerful wizard and a stray cat.

After cleaning the few dishes, Bilbo went to the living room and set about grabbing his pipe to pack. He would have sat down on the cat, if the animal had not given another warning squawk from his father's chair. Bilbo clutched his pipe close to his chest in shock before chuckling, and moving away to sit on the other armchair. It was bigger than the other, and had served many nights for Gandalf or the passing Ranger his mother could cajole in to staying over in return for a story.

Bilbo watched the cat, and the cat in turn watched him. This time his pupils were a tad wider from the dim light, and Bilbo thought he should stoke the fire more. But he was so comfortable in the chair, and felt a bit like a silly child with his legs swinging. That, and getting nervous about how exactly to strike up a friendship with another. The hobbit could admit he was a tad out of practice.

"You need a name, that you do," Bilbo said before exhaling a prime smoke ring. "Something strong, and wise. Maybe a tad moody and stubborn."

Then Bilbo thought back to the tree that he had found the cat skulking under, and his mind was made up.

"You will be called Oak, I daresay. A fine name, even if I am going with the stereotypical hobbit idea of naming pets after plants."

The cat blinked before turning his face in to its side, clearly not caring about if he had a name or title. The tomcat gave a peek at Bilbo and, seeing that the hobbit was still watching him, twitched his thick tail to cover his face entirely. Now he looked like just a mildly large pile of wool.

"I think you'll like it here in Bag End, Oak," Bilbo said with a smile.

.

Gandalf came around the next morning with a hop in his step and a smile on his weathered face. When Bilbo asked whatever happened to make him so chipper, Gandalf just gave a secretive little smile that no one would ever understand.

"Oh, I'm just constantly marveled by my cleverness is all," the old family friend said with a dry chuckle.

Thinking that it was odd, but not odder than anything else the man had said or done, Bilbo only nodded before getting them set up for a nice second breakfast. As he set the cream on the tray, he looked about for Oak but did not see him anywhere. Maybe he was having a long lie-in morning. The odd cat had stalked off in to one of the guest bedrooms last night instead of staying in the living room, or coming with Bilbo to his room. Bilbo would be afraid Oak had already gone his own way, if not for seeing him this morning silently waiting for breakfast.

It was a bright morning, so their breakfast of many delicacies outside was a welcome relief. With bellies full (and Bilbo's waistcoat loosened) the two friends leaned back in their wooden seats and took out their pipes. Just when Bilbo was wondering if he should get his straw hat he used while gardening to block the sun from burning his face, he heard a very familiar hiss.

Blinking his eyes open, Bilbo blearily watched as Oak stalked closer to Gandalf. The wizard himself was dozing quite obliviously on, and Bilbo's heart leapt to his throat when Oak jumped for the wizard with intent that was anything but good.

Yet Gandalf effortlessly moved his staff to catch Oak in his side and guide him over his shoulder instead of landing on his face. The cat landed easily on his feet before making another go, but by that time Gandalf had stood and easily danced out of Oak's clear attempts to maim and decapitate.

After watching the bizarre show for a moment more, Bilbo shook his head and jumped up to try and nab his other guest.

"Oak! Oh, Oak you  _stop that_  this  _instant_!" Bilbo cried as he moved to grab him.

The hobbit had half a mind to let the cat try his hardest rather than risk more scratches. He had woken to find his cuts on his palms already healing, and Bilbo was sure a few days more would see his palm back to normal. Still, it was embarrassing to have one guest so blatantly attack the other.

Finally Bilbo caught the cat, and quickly swaddled him up in the cloth he had used to cover the pies. Oak continued to struggle, but Bilbo had learned with many Took relatives how to tie a babe in tight so they could not so easily get away. If Oak was not spitting mad, Bilbo would think the scene of him holding a swaddled cat hilarious.

It was quite impressive to see Oak's sharp teeth this close up, and how his white whiskers accented against the black made him a fine cat indeed. Except for the fact that his lip was curled back and he was hissing incessantly at Gandalf for whatever strange reason. If he was getting territorial after only one night, Bilbo wondered if he had acquired a guard dog instead of a house cat. (If so, he could not wait for those Sackville-Baggins to come a'knocking.)

"I'm so sorry, Gandalf," Bilbo huffed as he tried to rearrange Oak in his arms. The hobbit knew if he let him down the cat would easily wiggle out from his constrictive prison. Still, Oak was deceptively heavy. "He was so stubborn when I met him yesterday afternoon, but he did not attack me with such energy!"

"My word. Bilbo Baggins, I do not know if you have the best luck, or the worst," Gandalf said with a great booming laugh.

"Oak isn't that bad," Bilbo said meekly, thinking back to his own opinion yesterday about crossing black cats. He had complained to the neighbors about the cat on the way back, and Bilbo regretted it now.

"I wish you all the bravery in the world with that beast. You shall need it."

It was as if Oak could understand, as his efforts to get freed were increased yet again. Still, even as Bilbo gripped him tight, the cat did not turn and sink his teeth in to Bilbo in an attempt to get free. Yes, this cat with the odd flinty eyes was not bad at all.

"I think that this is quite a grand send off if any, my old friend. I shall see you next summer," Gandalf said with a nod as he put his hat back on. "You and this Oak indeed!"

Bilbo offered a fond farewell in return, and watched as Gandalf left through the side-gate. He could have easily stepped over the ornamental thing, but instead the wizard politely opened and closed the latch before giving another warm smile and wave good-bye.

Oak continued to struggle for some minutes more, and Bilbo continued to hold him like a fussing babe, before he finally calmed down in the hobbit's arms. Bilbo thought to rock the cat for a moment, but a deep, guttural-like sound came deep from cat's throat. The hobbit decided not to push his luck and so stopped.

Still swaddled, Bilbo lowered Oak to the ground. For all the struggle the cat had made before, he now just lied there bundled tight in a plaid blanket. Bilbo thought that if cats could cry, Oak would be doing exactly that right now. He just lied there, not even his white whiskers twitching. Like Oak's life had been taken from him with the departure of Gandalf.

"Oh, stop being so  _dramatic_  about everything. And you were so rude!"

Oak's only movement from his prone state was to glare at Bilbo with those light eyes.

"That is  _not_  helping your cause one bit. Now get up you silly thing, else you're going to overheat in that blanket with all that fur!"

Oak blinked at him thrice before removing himself from the blanket with a lethargy Bilbo had only seen in hobbits experiencing their first hangover. The cat slunk off to sit in the shade of some of Bilbo's foxgloves nearby, and in the darkness he was nearly invisible.

.

Bilbo was almost second-guessing the idea of adopting a stray. Sure, Oak was good for not talking to himself (although a animal who could not respond back was hardly a step above), and there were no longer problems of wandering rabbits and squirrels in his garden. Regardless, the cat was truly insufferable.

He only came around when he wanted to be fed, and sometimes not even that. Most days Oak would stay out in the garden moping, or find a secret spot one of the many rooms that made up Bag End. Bilbo thought he knew his smial like the back of his hand, as it had always been his home, but Oak always managed to elude him in some little crevice or corner. Clearly the cat did not want to have anything to do with the master of his new home.

For the most part, the hobbit let the cat have his space. Bilbo knew that at times being alone was what a life needed. He did not know what Oak had been through to find his way in to Hobbiton, but by some of the scars that could be seen through the folds of his thick fur, Bilbo thought the cat had been alone for a long time in the wilds.

Sometimes Bilbo tried to pet Oak, or lure him to sit on his lap. Because what was the point of having a furry cat if he did not even care to rub against Bilbo? But Oak would just sniff, or meow in that low, throaty way of his, before stalking away. Like it was demeaning of his pride to lower himself on to Bilbo's level of showing open affection.

Still, despite the sour attitude and how Bilbo was always short on meat now a days, Oak was good at some things. Some spare mice had begun moving from outside to the house with the nights getting colder and colder, but Oak always managed to catch them. And leave them for Bilbo to find all over the house. Killed, necks neatly broken, but never eaten.

This odd routine of cohabitation continued for the last month of fall, before winter truly set in. A light snow covered most of everything outside, and Bilbo noted that Oak hated the snow almost as much as Bilbo. Although that might have been because the hobbit had captured and thrown Oak in to the snow after a storm had dumped nearly a foot of snow everywhere.

Oak had given out a strangled cry when he hit the snow before leaping back up, jumping nearly double Bilbo's height. Not that it did the cat any good, as he inevitably fell back in the snow a second time. Laughing, Bilbo took pity on the cat and marched out to retrieve him.

Oak had not looked at Bilbo, much less acknowledged his presence, for a solid week afterwards.

.

Finally the snow melted and Oak was the first one out to inspect the ground coming back alive. First he was out patrolling the property, and then he stalked up to sit under the tree above the smial.

Bilbo thought to join the cat at midday, deciding to take his lunch outside when it was not so cold anymore. Oak did not seem to enjoy the interruption to his steady gaze (the hobbit fondly called them Oak's 'majestic moments' internally), but he did enjoy the porks sausages Bilbo offered him. Together they watched as people bustled about from their homes, their feet bare but every other part of themselves bundled up to see friends and family.

"Soon there will be kids running about screaming like they're getting stuck with a hot poker, sweethearts getting married impatiently, and most importantly: the flowers will bloom," Bilbo said with a deep breath of crisp air. "Oh, I feel that this will be a good Spring to follow an easy Winter."

Oak just looked at him blankly, as if it was idiotic and not brave to be optimistic, before he flicked his tail and went back inside. Bilbo followed after him, carrying the basket and blanket back inside.

Bilbo's days did not change as drastically as the weather. He began writing his little stories again now that the cold did not tense up his hands. The hobbit spent less time baking out of boredom and more time with his seedlings in the windowsills, and then planting them out in the gardens. His heirloom tomatoes were already looking promising with their bright green leaves and fuzzy stalks.

Oak joined him outside as he tilled and fertilized the earth that was no longer frozen. Sometimes Bilbo would hum, and Bilbo caught Oak's tail flicking along in time quite a few times. Indeed, this cat was one of the least affectionate beings he had ever known, but he was also the cleverest creature the hobbit had yet to encounter. It made Bilbo decide that his cat was no ordinary one, but that was always as far as he got in his wonderings and conclusions.

When the tulips began blooming, the market opened up again. Bilbo was one of the first to show up that crisp Spring morning, wearing his finest waistcoat with Oak at his side. He had not expected the cat to come trotting after him this morning, but Bilbo was never one to spur known company. They had spent the entire winter cooped up in the same place, and they had yet to scratch each other apart. Considering how moody Oak could be, it was a clear victory.

Bilbo went about his normal stalls, and only a couple people questioned him about the dark cat that danced between his feet not in affection, but agitation. Bilbo was all too accommodating to explain the stray to others.

"Well, he looks like a good hunter, what with those bandy legs and solid form, that's for sure. Ears are a tad big," the cheese vender said appreciatively. "In fact, I'd mighty appreciate it if you thought to sell him to me. A good amount of my wheels have been nibbled on as of late."

Bilbo felt his chest uncomfortably constrict at that, and he resisted the urge to lean down and run a hand along Oak's back. The cat allowed the action rarely: only after he had gotten an indulgent meal, or when he was napping in the sun with his guard down.

"I'm sorry, but I've become quite fond of him," Bilbo said, the free hand not holding his basket tightening at his side. It was odd, getting attached to the beast what with Oak's dismissive attitude. "I wish you all the luck in finding another."

The vendor laughed and patted Bilbo on the shoulder over the counter roughly before saying: "Easy there, Mr. Baggins. I'm not going to steal away your tomcat in the night. I was just inquiring is all."

"I'm sorry," Bilbo apologized, feeling a bit silly for his standoffish attitude to such an old acquaintance.

"Think nothing of it. Good day to you!"

Bilbo went back to gathering fresh food he had been denied, and still Oak stayed at his side. The hobbit expected the cat to wander from the sights and smells, but the cat was loyal like a dog as he tailed beside him. Some fauntlings attempted to pet the creature, but Oak always cast them a look and a low growl that sent them away.

If Bilbo did not think it endearing how fussy his cat got at every little thing, the hobbit would still be mad at how rude the creature was acting.

.

While Bilbo positively glowed under being able to work in the garden again, and take his tea outside, there were some things about Spring that he did not favor. Mostly: the unwelcome visitors that came to his door for his silver spoons or hand.

Because that's really all who visited him in this season. Lobelia looking for silverware, with excuses of relative's weddings to use them for and oh,  _please_ , she would return them right after! Bilbo had never been happier with Oak's ability to intimidate even in his small form. That, and suitors looking for more than just silverware.

Just the other day Bilbo was gardening when he jolted up at the sound of a scarlet scream. He had just enough time to rush to the front door to see Lobelia sprinting back down the hill with her hair and ribbons in disarray. Bilbo looked down to see Oak with a frilly hem in his mouth.

The cat looked like he instead had feathers in his mouth snatched from a noble eagle. In a way, Bilbo supposed that Lobelia was an odd prize to chase away. Regardless, Bilbo leaned down to take the frills from the cat's mouth. Oak had allowed Bilbo to stroke his soft head and large ears for a moment before the cat darted away.

Now, as previously stated in this tale, Bilbo was perfectly content being alone. It was not a great grievance being a bachelor, and a rich one at that. Yet when those two came in to relation, he had to deal with the fact that he was a prize to catch in Hobbiton. He had the best smial, a good amount of gold, and he was quite a marvelous cook and gardener.

Spring always made Hobbits do crazy things anyway. Like fall in love in the first weeks, only to get married before the cold of Fall and a falling out could chill their fledgling love. Bilbo had his spring flings in his youth just like any other, but no one had ever stuck to him. It was apparent by the way people came by that they intended to try just that with him.

Bilbo would usually have no other choice but to entertain them for tea, and then refuse any advances (verbal or otherwise) as he ushered them out.

Yet now there was a new aspect to the addition: Oak. While Bilbo could not be outwardly rude, the cat had no qualms with scratching at hobbit feet and hands that tried to touch Bilbo. The animal could be as rude as he damn well pleased, and no hobbit could say much about it. Especially when they saw the scars that intersected Oak's pretty black coat at certain angles, and the hard eyes they were met with.

They called Bilbo a saint for taking in such a demon, and then rushed out to never try and weasel their way in to his life again. Each time Oak scared off a new suitor, Bilbo gave a biscuit to the animal in thanks. The cat oddly liked them, even if they were mostly wheat and had no meat.

Oak even guarded against theft from Bilbo's garden. If it had not been so freeing to not have suitors interrupting his day, the hobbit would have enjoyed this aspect of Oak's protection the most. Because while little animals posed a threat to his vegetables, it was clearly the fauntlings who did the most damage.

Some late afternoons Bilbo would sit and watch from the porch, not seeing Oak skulking in the shadows of his plants until he slipped out in to the bright sunlight. Other days, like today, he would sit at the bench before his house and watch everything go on below. Today Oak decided to slink away from the garden to join the hobbit.

"How is my little guard doing?" Bilbo asked warmly as he patted the spot beside him on the bench.

Oak huffed as he hopped up and situating himself. His tail moved to curl around his body, the action causing his fur to brush against Bilbo's thigh. Bilbo noted that Oak did not shy away at the contact, and so bravely reached forward to stroke behind his ears for a few moments.

The hobbit took his hand away promptly, not wanting to push his luck. So Bilbo was quite surprised when he felt a something soft knock against his hand. He looked down to see that Oak was pressing his forehead against his knuckles, as if returning his affection.

Before Bilbo could think more of it, the cat turned away and situated himself back to his previous position. Like always, he fully hid his face behind his furry tail.

"I think I should start calling you Oakenshield, accounting for how you protect me from so much," Bilbo said, his knuckles still tingling a bit. He told himself it was because of the cat's fur, and not because, after so many months, Oak had finally shown clear affection to him for the first time.

Oak opened an eye and peered at him under his tail before turning away.

"Yes, I think Oakenshield is a great title for you," Bilbo continued to say.

The hobbit puffed on his pipe and the cat continued hiding behind his tail.

.

While Bilbo was not adventurous like his Took relatives, he did enjoy taking the odd walk here or there. He never crossed any major rivers, but small streams were fine to ford without the fear of drowning. Some days for longer treks he took a lunch with him, but no matter the occasion, Oak always accompanied him.

For having shorter legs, Oak never lagged. If anything, he was always darting ahead, searching and curious to everything around him. That, or he was a very paranoid cat indeed. It would explain his near obsession when dealing with strangers that Bilbo did not want. Bilbo now had a collection of strips from dress hems Oak had ripped from Lobelia. He thought he should frame the collection soon, as it was truly prized by the both of them.

Today was another late Spring morning, with Bilbo having a pack on his back full of food and Oak off somewhere he could not see. Initially Bilbo fretted how the cat wandered in the woods and wilds on their frequent outings, but the cat was better than the hobbit at protecting himself. Just the other day he had come back with two rabbits in his mouth to offer for dinner.

When Bilbo heard a loud snap, he turned and furrowed his brow in curiosity. The deer here were too smart for that, and the smaller animals could not make such a thick twig snap. The only large enough animal to make such a careless noise would be Oak, but he was always silent as night approaching.

Feeling dread in his stomach that had nothing to do with how Bilbo had not had anything to eat since breakfast, the hobbit turned and began to backtrack. Bilbo tried to be as silent as possible, and only glanced over his shoulder in worry every other minute.

Maybe it was just a Ranger patrolling the woods, or maybe a fellow hobbit going far out of their way to gather firewood. Or maybe, Bilbo realized as he glanced over and saw the hulking mass approaching him, it was a wolf.

Now, Bilbo had seen wolves during that cursed Winter a few decades ago, and even then he thought it had been more than enough for his life. Now as he felt a chill down his spine, he thought that if crossing black cats brought you bad luck, crossing wolves brought you death. It would do no good to cry out to give away the wolf's presence, as there was no one about to hear him.

Especially when it was a lone one like this one seemed to be. Those were the most desperate, the most diseased in the mind. They were like Bilbo in how they were alone, but different in how they had allowed that to twist and distort them in to an entirely new evil.

Trying to be brave, Bilbo fully turned towards the beast and raised his walking stick with shaking hands. He dully realized there was no more bird song, but that might just be his wildly beating heart overtaking everything around him. His vision had tunneled to the wolf coming closer, closer still. It was obviously playing with its food, and Bilbo found that nearly as rude as the fact the wolf was going to viciously tear him apart with no respect.

The tense moment was shattered when a piercing screech cut across the woods. Bilbo would have thought it one of those war-bats from legends, and was half-inclined to believe it when he saw a black blur hit the wolf straight in the face. It took the hobbit a heavy moment to realize that it was not a bat, but Oak.

Little Oak, who was trying to be as strong and immovable as the trees he had been named after.

Bilbo cried out when Oak was cast aside with a paw some moments later, the wolf snapping his teeth dangerously as he approached the down tomcat. Despite how blood dripped from the wolf's face from deep scratches, Oak seemed to be unable to get back up.

Bilbo thought how he could run away now. The wolf had clearly forgotten all about him as he inched closer to the cat. But the hobbit found his courage then, and he took off his pack to take out the bread knife he had brought for his lunch. Bilbo dully realized his food must have alerted the wolf to him and lured it out from whatever dark place the predator lived.

The hobbit cast aside his pack, and the sound it made against the ground made the wolf turn away from Oak back to him. It looked even more deranged now with blood leaking from its face and eyes glowing yellow under the canopy of trees.

Bilbo took a deep breath and took a step forward. The wolf must have taken it as a challenge, as it sprinted at Bilbo with its jaw unhinged and teeth snapping. It was nearly down upon the smaller hobbit when Bilbo thrust forward. Still, the momentum of the wolf running full-tilt made the hobbit fall flat on his back.

But his race had been blessed with large feet, and with adrenaline making him strong, Bilbo kicked up as he fell to push the wolf up and off his body. Bilbo let go of the bread knife, leaving it embedded in the wolf's chest as he finished his roll.

Bilbo scrambled up from the leaves and dirt and turned to the wolf, his empty hands grasping at air. The wolf gave a pathetic whine, closed its eyes, and did not move again.

The hobbit did not give himself much time to mourn over having to take a life before he turned and sprinted to Oak. The cat was still, and his clear eyes were closed. But Bilbo saw how his chest rose and fell in slight breaths.

"Taking on a wolf, my stubborn Oakenshield," Bilbo cried softly.

He took off his waistcoat, and wrapped the cat safely in it. Bilbo laughed bitterly, thinking that this was just like when Oak had tried to attack Gandalf. It had only been two seasons ago, only half a year, but it felt like a lifetime ago at that moment.

Oh, how silly for Bilbo to think that he had brought in a stray life. Bilbo had been the stray: the lone one convincing himself he was fine.

But now was not the time to think of who had saved who. Because Bilbo had some miles to run back to town, and a doctor to see.

.

The town doctor had looked at Bilbo a little funny at being so obsessive about him looking over a simple cat. Yet the old hobbit had only sighed before examining the animal. He declared that while there were some nasty cuts to Oak's ribs, and a fair amount of bruising under the coat, the cat would heal just fine if Bilbo treated him with the right herbs. There were no broken bones, even if the tomcat did look horrible with his fur matted and tangled.

Bilbo lovingly wrapped Oak in ointments and bandages that night. Sometimes the cat opened an eye and studied Bilbo silently. Oak never gave one whining cry as the hobbit treated him. The cat did not even complain when Bilbo wrapped him back up in a blanket and held him to his chest.

The little hobbit cried for a second time over the cat. Yet this time it was not him who had gotten scratched up and needed to heal. And this time he did not feel silly when his tears finally abated.

Bilbo did not allow Oak to sleep in his own bed that night. Now he placed the cat beside Bilbo on his bed. The cat glowered, but either from inability or laziness, had not jumped off to go to his own bed.

The next morning Bilbo tied a shawl together and used it as an impromptu sling to carry Oak around in. He thought that if hobbit lads and lasses used it to carry their babes, Bilbo could use it to hold Oak. It was partially so the cat could not go off and open his injuries again, but mostly it was to give Bilbo peace of mind.

Of course the cat glared at him, but still Oak allowed it for four days in total. By the last day the cat seemed to almost enjoy it, by the way he turned in to the heat of Bilbo's chest. Maybe it was that embarrassment at his uncharacteristic attitude that forced the cat to jump out and away.

Bilbo noted the limp as he began to stalk away, and immediately he picked Oak back up with a grumble. But Oak struggled against his hold, and hissed loudly. He had not done that since the first month, and Bilbo dropped Oak in clear shock. Of course the cat landed on his feet, and gave a parting glare before starting off again, his limp more pronounced.

Oak disappeared for the rest of that day and only came out at supper time. Bilbo did not look at the cat as he ate, and the hobbit retired to his bed early. Bilbo thought he was being polite in allowing the cat room to be by himself. He had been so reserved when he had first come, and maybe Oak had wanted to get away but had been unable to do so from his injuries.

Bilbo had just been smothering the poor animal when it did not even have a choice. Maybe he should let Oak go, allow him to continue wandering like he had done so before.

His bedroom door, that he had taken to leaving cracked open in case Oak needed him, creaked as it opened more. Bilbo did not have much time to wonder as the springs of his mattress dipped as something jumped up in a slight huff.

Bilbo did not turn around to look at Oak until he had settled next to him. When he flipped over, he started to see that Oak was staring at Bilbo with eyes that glowed in the faint moonlight.

The hobbit did not dare breath when the cat leaned forward and pressed his forehead against Bilbo's. It was the second time he had used the gesture, and also the second time Bilbo had been the recipient of the cat's favor.

Bilbo could only appreciate the ticklish nature of fur against his own bangs for a moment before Oak curled up, facing away from the hobbit. Feeling like he had been given the right, Bilbo learned forward and brushed his hand along Oak's back. He had thankfully not lost any weight from his injuries, and now his coat was back to its thick, glossy state. Bilbo believed he heard a deep purr, but thought that ridiculous as Oak had never made the sound before.

"Goodnight, my Oakenshield," Bilbo murmured sleepily.

He fell asleep with his knuckles brushing against Oak's back.

.

While Oak did not bestow any more gentle headbutts, and had still yet to rub against his leg, something between the two had changed. Bilbo thought Oak no longer just tolerated him for food and shelter, but enjoyed his company.

Now it was the middle of Summer, and Bilbo decided some weeks ago that he could stand not exploring for a bit. He missed consulting with maps, and watching Oak swim in rivers like it was the most natural thing ever, but one wolf was enough for now. He could wait some time before going out with not but a bread knife.

When he told others about the wolf, its carcass was found and retrieved. It had truly been bad luck, as wolves were usually not in the area. Still, alerts had been put up and Rangers had been called in for their help. A pack of wolves had been found and chased away some miles out of Hobbiton, and many thanked Bilbo for bringing up the alert for the danger. It could have easily been a fauntling who had gone out one day to explore the woods and not come back.

Oak did not seem to mind their sedentary life, as he continued living in the garden and finding hiding places in Bag End. The cat still followed after the hobbit at markets, and had taken to allowing kids to at least stare at him without scowling them away. Bilbo would think that Oak was almost comfortable with hobbits in a way he clearly had not been before.

Bilbo's birthday came around this time again, and of course everyone demanded for a bigger party than last under their important party tree. There were so many acceptances from his invitation that Bilbo was busy gathering presents for a good two weeks. Oak was clearly confused by all the items filling the den and spilling in to other rooms. He swatted at the bolts of cloth and the sharpened his claws on the thick rugs.

Bilbo did not expect Oak to come along with so many strangers about, and yet the cat did. He obviously did not dance with anyone, and Bilbo could feel that gaze as he changed partners and gathered more flowers in his crown. The birthday boy had started with a simple one of white daisies, and now he had a kaleidoscope of colors added to the innocent flowers. Everyone was being so nice and accommodating, and Bilbo felt so bad for spurring so many of their advances. They really were alright when they were drunk and happy from dancing.

Once they finally got back home, Bilbo was dead tired from the dancing and entertaining. He did not even get inside, as he opted instead first to sit on his front bench. He looked up to the stars, and then down to watch as the last lights in Hobbiton went out. Dawn would most likely be in a few hours, but Bilbo wanted to have one last pipe to try and clear his head from all those mugs of ale before bed.

As he packed his pipe, Bilbo watched as Oak jumped up and climbed along the back of the bench, and then reached up to swat away the extravagant crown. Bilbo mumbled a complaint and turned to glare at the cat, who just blinked back up at him with impossibly big, black eyes.

Yet Bilbo could not stay angry for long, as Oak moved to perch on the back of the bench. He moved his head to sit atop Bilbo's shoulder, and the hobbit thought it a very intimate gesture for a cat. Of course Oak would not think to sit in his lap, and instead would put his face right next to Bilbo's as he smoked.

"Yes, yes, I get it. No handsome hobbits for me, only handsome black cats."

Oak's whiskered tickled Bilbo's face, and the hobbit thought he felt for a moment the cold press of a nose against his cheek, but it had probably been nothing.

.

It was one of those last impossibly hot, sticky days of Summer transitioning into Autumn, and it was not even ten yet. So Bilbo was a tad confused why Oak still insisted that he sit in his lap as the hobbit had his morning smoke.

Really, at first Bilbo thought it entirely endearing that Oak would grace the hobbit with this one luxurious show of affection a day. But now he just wished this furnace would get off his lap and stop shedding enough black on Bilbo to look like a molting raven.

"Good morning!"

Bilbo moved his straw hat out of his eyes and saw that it was Gandalf leaning on his staff looking down at the pair. Thinking fast, Bilbo looked back down to see how Oak was reacting.

The cat had sat bolt upright, front paws balancing on either of Bilbo's knees. The hobbit thought for sure he was going to lung again for Gandalf, but instead the cat headed the opposite direction and bolted for the garden.

"My goodness," Gandalf said with a laugh, "How time changes things!"

Bilbo rushed Gandalf in, and together they sat down for some muffins and iced tea since it was already too warm for hot drinks. Bilbo fretted not over the meal, but how Oak had clearly gone with no intention of being found until he wanted to.

"You've done the impossible and scared away my Oakenshield!" Bilbo said with a disbelieving chuckle and shake of his head.

"A fine title for him, I should think," Gandalf said with a nod.

"So how goes your relations and dealings?" Bilbo asked politely. "Are you here again with that prince fellow?"

"In a way. I'm actually here to pick up the dwarf," Gandalf said with a smile. "I thought it would do his character and heart mighty good to spend some time with you lovely hobbits."

Bilbo frowned and stated baldly: "There's not been a dwarf spotted here except the day before you left. Sure, there was talk of that prince for a few weeks or so afterwards, but no one has spotted him since."

"I should hope not, as my spells are quite good," Gandalf said with a snort.

Brown eyebrows drew together in clear confusion as Bilbo asked: "Did you make the poor lad invisible or something?"

"In a way, I suppose I did  _exactly_  that."

Some hours later, Bilbo wished Gandalf a good day. The wizard said he was staying at the Prancing Pony in Bree, and denied any offers of stay from the hobbit. Apparently he had a Ranger or other to meet there, but he would be back tomorrow before going back to Erebor. Really, Bilbo would worry over Gandalf if he was not as tireless as he was ageless.

Bilbo was truthfully a bit glad to see the wizard gone, so he could go and find his fine cat. Oak had been gone for a good half day now, and had never done that since the attack. In a way, Oak was even more protective of him after the wolf. Bilbo thought that maybe he should take to calling the cat Oakenshield all the time now.

Bilbo called his name from the porch, and watched as the black cat slunk out from the tomatoes. He had always like that spot, even if he always got leaves stuck to his soft belly.

"You were dead set on killing the wizard earlier, and now you just run away. Whatever is the manner?" he asked as he crouched lower to the cat's level.

Bilbo was shocked a second time that day as Oak deftly climbed up his side and moved to drape around his neck, like some sort of pathetic fox fur. Bilbo felt the tickle of a furry ear against his own, and thought that Oak's were big enough to be nearly the size of his own.

"Oh, you big majestic baby," Bilbo sighed as he stood, huffing at the extra weight around his shoulders.

Oak, oddly enough, stayed practically wrapped around his neck for the entirely of the day, and when they went to sleep that night, he lied directly atop of Bilbo's chest. Before he had only pressed against the hobbit's side on the rare night.

Despite all the clear love and affection from the cat, there was a heavy stone of worry in Bilbo's stomach. It was like Oak was saying goodbye.

.

Gandalf appeared right in the middle of brunch, and Bilbo turned away from his cold eggs with a sigh. He had been so busy watching Oak not eat that he had accidentally done the same.

He went to the door, and invited Gandalf in with a smile that only felt mostly forced.

"I'm here to pick up Thorin, and then I shall be out of your way, my friend," Gandalf said with a smile. "I must thank you profusely, for taking such good care of him. Although I did hear a disturbing little tale involving a wolf and bread knife. You hobbits never cease to surprise."

"That prince?" Bilbo asked in a start.

The hobbit started again when he felt something soft run along his shin, and Bilbo looked down to see Oak slide his body against him before moving to sit before Gandalf. The cat gave a glance to Bilbo before lifting his paw up, and swatted at Gandalf's staff half-heartedly.

Gandalf frowned at Oak before nodding. He crouched down, and Bilbo was shocked to see Oak not even hiss or move away when Gandalf draped a hand over his head.

Then there was a bright flash of light, like a firework had gone off without noise or color. When Bilbo managed to blink the stars from his eyes, he turned to see that Oak was gone, and instead there was a dwarf. A dwarf with the same steely blue eyes his cat had, and whose dark black hair had streaks of white. The fur surcoat he wore accentuated his past form even further.

Bilbo felt his heart attempt to leave the confines of his ribcage, and took a shaky step back. The dwarf, in turn, took a step forward with a prominent frown on his handsome face.

"Bilbo," he said first, his voice rough and heavy.

The hobbit looked helplessly up at Gandalf, but the wizard was watching Thorin with clear contemplation. It was only when Bilbo gave a strangled whimper that the wizard moved his eyes to him.

"I see that maybe there were unforeseen consequences to all this," Gandalf said, and that had Bilbo truly panicking. Gandalf never admitted himself to be in the wrong. "I shall wait for you outside Thorin. Come at your leisure. Bilbo Baggins, it's always a pleasure."

And then the grey wizard turned away, abandoning Bilbo with a stranger in his kitchen. A stranger who had been his cat all this while. So maybe he really was not that much of an intruder, as Bilbo had personally invited him in all those days ago.

"I-I don't understand," Bilbo stuttered, eyes averted to his feet. He could not stand to look at Oak- no-  _Thorin_. Those eyes he had grown accustomed to waking up to, and whose whiskers were now an actual beard.

Thorin did not say anything for a moment, and just stood there like a statue, before he sighed and stepped closer to Bilbo. Thorin showed him to a chair and sat the hobbit down before turning to Bilbo with his face still looking so severe.

"Gandalf thought it a good idea to make me helpless, to make me rely on hobbits."

"He said you did not like our kind," Bilbo muttered.

"I must admit, I did not want to work with those so different from my kin," Thorin sighed. "You found me the day Gandalf decided to play that nasty trick. And through the days you showed me undeserved kindness and welcome. I came to find that maybe home does not necessarily lie beneath a mountain."

Bilbo finally looked up, and blinked rapidly to try and adjust to the sight of a dwarf instead of his loyal tomcat.

"Bilbo, I-"

Thorin cut himself off there, and the dwarf huffed before carding a hand through his long hair. It curled, and did not look as soft as the thick pelt he had as an animal. It was so bizarre, sitting here with a dwarven prince that Bilbo had been fostering for a good three seasons now. Thinking on it now, it would have been a year with another month.

"I want to stay," Thorin said, his voice deep. "But I must return to Erebor. I must attend to my family, and see to my duties."

"Because you're a future king," Bilbo finally spoke, a bitter laugh coming from his mouth. "I've been feeding sausages to the wealthiest kingdom's prince."

Bilbo could not stand it anymore, and covered his face with his hands.

"Bilbo-"

"Look, just go. Please, just go."

Bilbo did not hear the creak of a chair pushed back, and when he looked through his fingers he saw that Thorin was still sitting there. Still studying him with those insufferable eyes.

At least Bilbo's suspicions that Oak was not a normal cat were confirmed. He just had no idea to go about boasting that he had been harboring a dwarven royal disguised in the form of a cat for all this time. No, that would clearly not go well. He would be called even more mad than he already was.

"I will miss you, Bilbo."

Bilbo tried to bury himself away between his fingers, but found there was no where to hide. And no where to burrow away from the hurt in his chest when Thorin leaned forward and pressed his forehead to the crown of Bilbo's head in parting.

.

To repeat it for a third time: Bilbo was not lonely.  _Absolutely_  not lonely.

He got up every morning, and had a lovely cup of tea. He went to the market, and worked in his gardens. His tomatoes had won yet again: seventh year in a row now. It was almost a formality, and fellow farmers had seemingly given up on that category.

The hobbit still had his books and his maps, although he did not go exploring like before. He told himself because he did not have a good walking stick, but it was truthfully because Bilbo no longer had a good walking partner.

The end of Autumn passed quickly, and Bilbo found himself unwilling to immediately get out of bed most mornings in the Winter. It was cold, and what was the point? There was no cat yowling at the foot of his bed, or swatting at his ears. He had always fussed over Bilbo's ears for some reason. Now it made sense: it probably reminded the dwarf of the elves they rivaled against.

It was a mild Winter like last year, but it still felt like it took forever for the snow to thaw and buds to open. The fresh air did Bilbo good, and he took time to sit outside on his bench and watch everything go on below him. And if he ran a hand where Oak would curl beside him, or mourn over how he no longer had to worry about black fur sticking to his pristine waistcoats, no one was around to mention it.

In fact, no one really mentioned the fact that his cat was no longer trailing after him. To the few who had asked, Bilbo had simply said the cat had gone on his own way. People frowned and said it was a loss, as he was such a beautiful cat with that thick coat and tail. Bilbo always smiled crookedly before agreeing and excusing himself. Personally Bilbo had always thought the cat's legs a tad short and funny.

It hurt because he wanted to see his Oak again, but Bilbo had never truly had a cat. It had been a dwarf, and Bilbo was torn between wanting to know what Thorin was truly like, and wanting to bury this whole part of his life. Not that the hobbit had much choice in the matter, as he was surely not marching to Erebor anytime soon.

Bilbo never accounted for the situation to be the other way around. He really should have, as he had heard stories of the stubbornness from dwarves and inadvertently experienced it first hand.

It was nearly Summer when Bilbo heard a knock on his door. It did not sound like it came from a hobbit, or Gandalf, so he approached the round door hesitantly. When he opened it, he found himself nearly crushed under a troop of dwarves. Yelping, the hobbit ducked out of the way as they literally poured in to his home.

The first two up and about were young, but that was where their similarity ended. One was light eyed, and his blonde hair was immaculately fashioned in multiple braids. He composed himself quickly as he straightened his tunic and fur coat. The other had dark hair and eyes, and whose hair was uncaringly messy and clothes rumbled. He was the first pair of eyes that Bilbo's own connected with.

"Master Boggins!" the youth exclaimed happily, and then cried out in pain as the blonde stomped harshly on his foot. Brothers it seemed, then.

"I told you it was  _Baggins_ ," a deep, familiar voice said behind everyone.

But before Bilbo had time to try and find Thorin, the other dwarves had recovered enough to straighten themselves out from each other. Bilbo stared as they all stood about in his foyer, crowding every inch with their impressive number and bulk.

"He's just excited is all," one of the dwarves with a funny curled hat and hairstyle (both his mustache and braids) said with a warm smile as he took a step forward.

"Hello again Bilbo, my boy!" Gandalf said as he stepped inside.

Ignoring how Gandalf's timing maybe  _was_  perfect, Bilbo gaped up at the wizard before saying: " _Gandalf_! Why are there thirteen dwarves in my home?!"

"You didn't seem to mind one before," the bearded wizard commented.

"He was a cat!" Bilbo cried despondently.

"As in one of those lions?" a voice asked.

"No, probably a panther. It would match his coloring better."

"But the hobbit makes it sound like he was just a normal mouser!"

Suddenly voices were intermingling together, and Bilbo could already feel the headache coming on. To finally be nearly content with his own company, it was quite a shock to be positively bombarded with this massive group.

.

Of course they raided the pantry and decided to move his furniture about to have a party. Bilbo himself excused himself before his headache grew in to a migraine. It was hard enough remembering everyone's names, and trying to not attack them like a rabid rabbit as they threatened to destroy everything around them.

Bilbo retired to his fireside, and took out his pipe to puff on furiously. He had barely been there for one bowl when he felt someone watching. Looking around the large chair (as he had gotten accustomed to letting Oak have his father's chair), he blinked at seeing Thorin hesitating at the doorway.

It was odd, as when he had been a cat he had come and gone as he pleased. Now Thorin almost looked lost and confused in this place he had lived in for many months. The dwarf cleared his throat not once, but twice, before taking a step forward and straightening his posture. It made Bilbo slouch more in his seat.

"May I join you?" Thorin asked regally.

"You never bothered to ask before, but then I suppose I don't speak cat," Bilbo said, but still waved at him to sit in the armchair he had for many nights.

Bilbo watched as Thorin brought out a pipe himself and packed it before lighting it. He exhaled, and when he finally noted Bilbo's eyes, the dwarf seemed to take a drag a bit too big as he started coughing.

"So you came back," Bilbo commented. "And brought the entirety of Erebor with you."

"Believe me, this is the smallest possible group I could afford. My father and grandfather were dead set to come, not to mention my siblings. I thought I would save you from most of my family for as long as I could afford. And they won't be staying indefinitely."

Bilbo thought about how he had unceremoniously flung Thorin in to the snow that one day. He had unabashedly laughed at the cat's scrunched up face and confusion over what to do without getting swamped in snow at every direction. Yes, it was best not to meet his family and explain that particular act.

"Why did you come back?"

The dwarf was silent for moment before putting his pipe aside. Thorin crossed his hands on his lap, interweaving his fingers in an attempt to steady them. They had been moving uneasily for the entire time he had sat.

"Is it really that impossible to see? You could read me so well before," Thorin spoke.

Bilbo remained silent, and felt his mouth pinch in a frown. Thorin's exasperation seemed to catch up with him then, as he dramatically threw his head back. The dwarf closed his eyes and seemed to send a prayer up to whoever he believed in before turning back to Bilbo.

"Do you remember after your birthday, on the bench?" Thorin asked out, voice a little strangled. "You must remember how I pressed my face to yours."

"Is that what that was?" Bilbo asked with his quizzical smile turning entertained. "I thought you were trying to annoy me with your cold nose and ticklish whiskers."

"I was-" the dwarf cut himself off to sigh again, and pulled at one of his braids uneasily. "I kissed you. As well as I could as a cat, anyway. To try and break Gandalf's spell."

Bilbo blinked, and struggled to ask: "What?"

"We have this legend, of a kiss between true love breaking any spell. Fairy tales truly, only told to the youths but, well... I thought I might as well try it," Thorin said, hands moving to grasp each other again and looking more than a little desperate. "Now I know the myth is truly a fallacy, as it didn't work despite all the aspects being true to the story."

The hobbit stared, and politely closed his open mouth with a slight clack of his teeth jostling against each other. Because that had been a love confession, had it not? Not only that, but  _true love_. All those mice left at his doorstep and rabbits brought for supper suddenly made so much sense.

"I knew it was foolish to come see you, to show my face to you after so many demeaning things I had done in the form of an animal. I tried to hold myself back, to not recipricate any gentleness you showed until I was truly myself, but you made it impossible. I didn't want to offend by witholding my favor."

Bilbo stared, and suddenly a thought occurred to him and he blurted frantically: "I  _dressed_  in front of you!"

"I never looked!" Thorin argued fast, eyes flashing defensively. "And why do you think I was so against taking a bath with you?"

The hobbit and dwarf stared at each other over the crackling fire. The background sounds of singing and merry making was suddenly loud in their silence. There was the clacking of plates, and Bilbo had half a mind to get up and see how things were going and if his mother's plates were in mortal peril. But this situation right now seemed paramount to everything else.

"Oh my Yavanna," Bilbo said as he buried his face in his hands again. "I'm just a normal hobbit! How did I manage to happen upon the only magical cat in the area?"

"I will forever be glad that you did," Thorin said, "And I must ask for you to continue calling me Oakenshield."

"But it's a silly nickname!" Bilbo cried helplessly before hiding behind his hands again. "Made from a silly name!"

"I demanded it to be my title in the mountain, and it's been accepted. And before you ask, yes, I was allowed to come here and seek what I desire most. My kingdom is safe in my family's hands, and I am not the only viable option for the future ruler. My sister will do a much better job of keeping the kingdom in check, no matter how much my brother grumbles."

Bilbo belatedly realized that Thorin's voice sounded as if it was much closer than it had been before. The hobbit lowered his hands to see the dwarf was kneeling in front of his chair, eyes beseeching and looking so dangerously handsome Bilbo wanted to punch him. Really, it was unfair to have such an advantage.

"Bilbo Baggins, would you permit me the opportunity to try and repay the kindness you showed me?"

Bilbo's eyes narrowed at the convoluted wording before asking: "Thorin Oakenshield, are you asking to court me?"

"Why else did you think I chased everyone else away?" Thorin asked with a toothy grin.

Bilbo huffed, and then found himself laughing as he reached forward to grab the dwarf's larger hands in his. They were warm, and rough like the pads on his feet as a cat, and Bilbo thought that maybe not everything had been lost.

The hobbit immensely enjoyed it when Thorin sucked in a short breath when Bilbo leaned forward to knock his forehead against the dwarf's.

.

The next Spring saw the unlikely joining of a hobbit and dwarf in marriage, and Gandalf showing off very fine fire works indeed.

.

FIN


End file.
